jesus of galilee from the salvadoran context:...

JESUS OF GALILEE FROM THE SALVADORAN CONTEXT:COMPASSION, HOPE, AND FOLLOWING

THE LIGHT OF THE CROSS

JON SOBRINO, S.J.

Translated by Robert Lassalle-Klein with J. Matthew Ashley

The article analyzes a threefold isomorphism between the realitiesof Galilee and El Salvador: (1) the two realities are subjugatedby imperial powers (2) the isomorphism least mentioned by com-mentators—between Jesus and the Salvadoran martyrs; and (3) theisomorphism between Jesus and the crucified people understoodas the Servant of Yahweh who brings salvation. The article thenconsiders three central realities—mercy, hope, and following—inlight of the cross, Jesus, and the people.

THIS ARTICLE RESPONDS to a request for a reflection on Jesus of Galileefrom the perspective of El Salvador. The fundamentals of what I have

to say have already been set out, for better or worse, in two books: Jesu-cristo liberador: Lectura teologica de Jesus de Nazaret (1991) and La fe enJesucrist:. Ensayo desde las vıctimas (1999). In these books I have tried todeal from the perspective of faith with the totality of the life and destiny ofJesus and with his ultimate reality. Here I will concentrate on certainelements that, while central to the Gospels, I see as especially clarified bythe Salvadoran context.

The task of selecting these fundamental elements is not simple. I will takethe cross into special account, not only because the Gospels are “a passionnarrative with an extended introduction” (Martin Kahler, 1896),1 but be-cause the Salvadoran context is, above all else, the reality of “a crucifiedpeople” (Archbishop Oscar Romero, Ignacio Ellacurıa). It is not simplymetaphorical to say that we live here under a “reign of the cross,” while inother places it is possible to live under a “reign of the good life.” This is notto devalue the paschal experience as a whole, which is truly central toChristian faith, but the experience of crucifixion Christianizes the suffering

JON SOBRINO, S.J., received his Th.D. from Hochschule Sanckt Georgen,Frankfurt, and is now professor of theology at the University of Central America,San Salvador. His areas of special interest are Christology and martyrdom for faithand justice. Having recently published Fuera de los pobres no hay salvacion (2007),he is preparing a work on Christian identity in the light of the following of Jesus.

1 Martin Kahler, The So-called Historical Jesus and the Historic, Biblical Christ,trans. and ed. Carl E. Braaten (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1964) 80 n. 11.

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of the Salvadoran people. Nonetheless, I will not treat the cross thematical-ly, but rather as a principle, more useful than others, for interpreting thetotality of the life of Jesus and its fundamental elements.

Among these elements, I will focus on mercy, which—and this is impor-tant—takes the form of justice; and I will focus on hope, which above alltakes the form of liberation and of life. Building around these themes, it ispossible to analyze many realities. Some are positive: the kingdom of God,the God of the kingdom, the Father and ultimate mystery, the little ones,liberation, resurrection, faith, and grace. Others are negative: the antiking-dom, oppression, idols of death, sin, and crucifixion. All of this will be heldimplicit in what follows.

Finally, I will also focus on following. While following is not everything, itis the axis around which the Christian life—and Christology—must turn inorder to “put on” Jesus. Following is central in the biblical text: “‘follow me’are the first and last words of Jesus to Peter,” as Bonhoeffer noted.2 Andfollowing is central for the Salvadoran context. “A great cloud of witnesses”(Heb 12:1) has emerged here, martyrs who have been distinguished fol-lowers. If the following of Jesus is not central, the edifice of Christianity falls.It is still the articulus stantis vel cadentis vitae cristianae (the article of faith bywhich the Christian life stands or falls) in today’s world.

As necessary as it is to use exegetical and historical-critical methods inpresenting the reality of Galilee and Jesus, I have nothing to add to themany studies on these topics. I will expand, rather, on the importance ofthe context, because being consciously and actively immersed in the realityof El Salvador during the 1970s and 1980s has greatly enhanced my under-standing of Jesus of Galilee. This methodological consideration may beperhaps the most specific contribution I can offer.

Finally, I will comment on two elements that have been recently andespecially influential in these reflections. First, regarding the reality ofthe context of a world of oppression and repression, I will mention thegenerosity, love, and martyrdom of many men and women, led by Arch-bishop Oscar Romero. Second, regarding thought, I will focus on thework of Ignacio Ellacurıa to illumine this reality in the light of Jesus ofGalilee.

THE CONTEXTUAL STRUCTURE OF THEOLOGY:LOCATION AND SOURCES

It used to be thought that theology was universal, a notion that contrib-uted to the almost exclusive emphasis on the use of sources: Scripture,tradition, and magisterium. Location was taken into account only for

2 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, El precio de la gracia (Salamanca: Sıgueme 1968) 20–21.

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pastoral reasons. But things are not so simple. In a crucial, much-cited textEllacurıa says:

The difference [between location and source] is neither strict nor, still less, exclu-sive, since in a way, location is a source, inasmuch as it makes the source give ofitself to the other, so that, thanks to its location and by virtue of it, certain determi-nate contents are actualized and are really made present. Granting this distinction,it would be erroneous to think that direct contact with the sources (even if webelieved and prayerfully lived them) is enough to put us in a position to see inthem and draw from them the right thing for what must constitute theologicalreflection.3

This means that sources must be read in a context, a location, the ubi ofthe Aristotelian categories, to which must be added the epoch, the quando.This spatio-temporal context can make the text give something or other ofitself, so that the fundamental question will be, What is the best contextfrom which to read the texts about Jesus of Nazareth? I do not have adefinitive answer, but I will share Ellacurıa’s programmatic statement,which is generally true: “The Third World4 is the place of the gospel.”5 Inthis article I want to show how the Gospels’ text about Jesus has been readin the Salvadoran context—which stands as a symbol of a much largerThird World—with the conviction that this reading has made the text “giveof itself” its Christian content more than other readings in other contextshave done, at least in some important respects. Before I take up the aspectof ubi or location in the context, however, I would like to offer someclarifications.

“Giving of itself” does not mean to quantitatively add content to thetext. It means that the context can, in fact, help ensure that the mostoriginal and profound meaning of a text is discovered. What does liber-ation mean in Exodus, what is meant by the sin of the world, or autopia of the reign of God, etc.? When texts have been buried ormarginalized for eons, context can help recover their relevance or some-times even their existence—for example, even progressive Europeantheology did not used to treat the Beatitudes and the woes of Luke,

3 Ignacio Ellacurıa, Conversion de la Iglesia al reino de Dios (San Salvador:UCA, 1984) 168.

4 The “Third World” is not just a geographical concept; it is fundamentallyhistorical. It can be described as a world of poverty and insults in which life anddignity are not taken for granted, and as an impoverished world, since its pros-tration has, as an important if not determinate cause, the oppression by otherworlds. It can also be described as a world that both hopes for salvation and cangenerate it.

5 Ellacurıa uses “the Third World” to introduce the Christian paradox: it is theplace to announce the Good News; there the Good News is accepted connaturally,and, like the Suffering Servant, the Third World brings salvation.

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justice and injustice in the prophets, and the liberation of Exodus ascentral themes.

Since the context as well as the texts has virtus, power, and energy,“giving of itself” also means that, by virtue of the context, the texts endup affecting those who study and read them in new, unanticipated, andmore profound ways, both intellectually and existentially. This rereadinghas certainly happened with texts about the kingdom of God, the Jesus ofhistory, and the cross and martyrdom when the texts are read in theSalvadoran context.

Texts therefore end up generating a collective consciousness that ismore widespread than the forms of individual or group knowledge thatexperts study, including, for example, the collective consciousness of ruralpeasants. This has certainly occurred with texts about the poor and evan-gelization, about prophetic denunciation and against lies, and about hopefor the kingdom of God, etc.

Finally, “giving of itself” means that some texts bring about new formu-lations-syntheses that show us how to understand the larger whole, andbecome an articulus stantis vel cadentis fidei: “the crucified people is thesign of the times” (Ellacurıa), “the glory of God is the poor person wholives” (Archbishop Romero).

There is no apodictic answer to the question of how one knows whether“the more” that a context can generate really supplies a “better” under-standing of the text. More objective intellectual arguments help us knowwhether this statement is accurate: texts reread in this way give the faith abetter internal coherence. However, in my opinion subjective experience—that place where each person must determine the ultimate truth of a textfor him- or herself—is more decisive in this matter.

Stated phenomenologically, I think one can verify that the text hasgiven more of itself in a context like that of El Salvador if, for example,an experience occurs like that of the disciples on the road to Emmaus(Lk 24:13–35): “Were not our hearts burning within us?”—which couldbe translated today as “With this vision of Jesus, does not everythingseem more human and closer to the man from Nazareth?” That a texthas given more of itself is confirmed by an experience like that of Jesuswhen he says in a moment of exultation: “I give you thanks, Father,because the poor and the humble have understood, not the proud andthe powerful,”6 which could be translated today as “We have finally

6 This is a paraphrase of the quotation by Archbishop Romero’s reading ofMatthew 11:25, “I give you thanks, Father, because you have hidden these thingsfrom the wise and have revealed them to the humble and the simple” (“La salva-cion, iniciativa de Dios,” homily of Archbishop Oscar Romero, July 9, 1978, onZacharias 9:9–10, Romans 8:9, 11–13, and Matthew 11:25–30, http://servicioskoino-nia.org/romero/homilias/A/780709.htm [accessed March 9, 2009]).


uncovered something fundamental that was buried: the truth lies withthe poor of history, not with their oppressors.” It is verified by thosewho find themselves saying, “Rereading Jesus from El Salvador hashelped us act more justly, love the poor more tenderly, and walk morehumbly with God,” the words of Micah 6:8 expressing what God finallyrequires.

What is important is that we see a text’s “giving of itself” as somethingreal, good, and humanizing. For this to happen, it is not sufficient simply torefer to the orthodoxy of the magisterium to verify that a text has given ofitself what it has to give (this idea will be important in my upcomingsections). What a text has to give must be able to be felt in reality, as hasbeen the case in El Salvador.

To illustrate this point we should think about the reinterpretation of afoundational scriptural text, the liberation of Egypt, which 40 years agowas a minor inflection in theology in the church. But, “thanks to theLatin American context” and “by virtue of it,” this text yielded some-thing substantial that had lain dormant: God listens to the cries ofslaves and liberates them. God’s choice to liberate became clear incontexts like El Salvador, while in others the text remained practicallymute or little discussed.

The 1984 Vatican Instruction on Certain Aspects of the “Theology ofLiberation,” affirms, for example, that God’s specific purpose in initiatingthe liberation of the Hebrew slaves was the creation of a people who wouldcelebrate his cult, which he would seal with the covenant on Mount Sinai.7

Juan Luis Segundo criticized this interpretation and insisted that in thethree great, most ancient sources, the Yahwist, the Elohist, and the Deu-teronomist, “there is no trace of this supposed purpose.”8 The text statesthat the essential purpose of the Exodus is that an oppressed people mighthave life and live in freedom as a people, which seems to me the mostcorrect exegesis. At this point, however, I am interested in emphasizingthe question why there would be such different interpretations of thesame text. Fundamentally, I believe that different contexts have made thesame text yield different meanings, and this explains why one reading has

7 See Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Instruction on Certain Aspectsof the “Theology of Liberation” IV no. 3, http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_19840806_theology-liberation_en.html (accessed March 11, 2009).

8 Juan Luis Segundo, S.J., Theology and the Church: A Response to CardinalRatzinger and a Warning to the Whole Church, trans. John W. Diercksmeier, rev.ed. (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987) 45: “We have to arrive at the last sourceof the Pentateuch—the Priestly, written during the Exile—to be able to speak of‘the Covenant cult celebrated on Mt. Sinai’” (cf. Ex 25–31 and 35–40), although wecould not speak of this as the purpose of he Exodus.”


prevailed over some other in the collective consciousness attached to aparticular context.9

THE CONTEXT: ISOMORPHISM, IRRUPTION OF REALITY,AND EPISTEMOLOGICAL RUPTURE

I will now look in some detail at the Salvadoran context and focus onthree things. First, simply put, there exists a certain isomorphism betweenthe reality of Galilee then and our reality in the Third World today.Second, during the 1970s reality broke in and made itself deeply felt. Third,there occurred a powerful epistemological rupture in the functioning ofintelligence in Salvadoran reality, though this rupture was not exclusive tothat context.

Isomorphism between the Reality That Appears in theText and in the Context10

When we read a text narrating the reality of Jesus of Galilee, and we do sofrom within the context of the reality of El Salvador, what isomorphism mayexist between the two pertains to similarities between their historical andsocial realities and the realities of followers of Jesus, especially themartyrs.

Isomorphism of the Social Realities of Galilee and El Salvador

In terms of a location from which the sources are being read, I under-stand El Salvador not just as a special reality, an ubi, nor simply as acultural reality (although one must take this into account as an importantelement, especially in the neighboring indigenous world of Guatemala),but rather, above all, as a substantial quid. The essential elements of thisreality are poverty, injustice, structural oppression and repression, andslow, violent death. These elements also include clinging to life (humanlyand religiously) and hope for the liberation of the majorities who, thoughinnocent and substantially undefended, have been slowly and violentlyrewarded with death. This is historically evident, and it is critical to take itinto account, if not in the details at least in substance, if one is to

9 Various First World scholars of the Hebrew Scriptures had already found inthe text what was reread in the Third World. That rereading was even facilitated bythose scholars. But the new reading of the Exodus became the interpretation mostoften taken into account in systematic and pastoral theology, much more in theThird World where it generated a “collective consciousness” and became a para-digm for praxis, hope, and faith. This development was due to the context.

10 In addition to being a fundamental geographical reality in the life of Jesus,Galilee is also a symbolic reality that gives expression to the world of the poor. Thefaithfulness of Jesus to the reality of Galilee and its people creates conflicts, whichbecome geographically explicit in Jerusalem.


understand the Galilee of Jesus. The reality of El Salvador helps oneunderstand Jesus’ Galilee. The nature of Galilee’s historical sin and graceis better understood through the real sin and grace of El Salvador, not onlyour thoughts about that sin and grace.

Isomorphism Among the Bearers of Salvation:Jesus and the Salvadoran Martyrs

It is important to emphasize another form of isomorphism, however, onethat is almost never taken into account, even though it should be carefullyconsidered. In El Salvador—aThirdWorld country not normally considereda part of the world of abundance, certainly not with regard to martyrdom—many human beings, despite suffering greater or lesser poverty or austerity,live, like Jesus, with unconditional mercy, defending the poor and the vic-tims produced by very real economic, military, political, cultural, media, andimperial gods. They do this in fidelity to God with integrity to the very end,and with a love that makes them willing to give their lives. These are themartyrs. And Jesus is well pleased to call them brothers and sisters.

These men and women provide a privileged place from which to rereadthe texts about Jesus of Galilee and to better understand his life, praxis,and destiny. They even shed light on the pro me of Jesus, so beloved byPaul and Ignatius of Loyola, though the pro me must be historicized fromthe pro pauperibus.

The poor also help us get to know, or at least guess at, Jesus’ filialrelationship with a God who is a Father in whom one can trust, and with aFather who continues being a God to whom one must always remainavailable for service. I cannot expand on this point here, but it is impor-tant, since Christologies usually squeeze out an inadequate treatment ofthe relationship of Jesus to God in favor of the relationship of Jesus to thekingdom of God. Nonetheless, the Salvadoran context illuminates therelationship of Jesus to God, certainly in quality if not in quantity. Onehas only to mention the names of Archbishop Oscar Romero and RutilioGrande, S.J. They not only resemble Jesus the evangelizer and prophet, butalso Jesus, the Son of God.

We must also remember the theologal dimension of this isomorphism.Jesus “went about doing good, for God was with him” (Acts 10:38b), saidPeter in the house of Cornelius. So too, three days after ArchbishopRomero’s assassination, Ellacurıa said in a homily at the University ofCentral America, “With Archbishop Romero, God passed through ElSalvador.”11 Once again, then, given all the required qualifications, we

11 Ignacio Ellacurıa, “Monsenor Romero, un enviado de Dios para salvar a supueblo,” Sal Terrae 811 (1980) 825–32; republished in Diakonıa 17 (1981) 2–8;Estudios centroamericanos 65 (1990) 141–46; Revista latinoamericano de teologıa,


cannot ignore the fundamental isomorphism of these events with the jour-ney of Jesus through history.

Global Isomorphism of Oppression and Repression

Readers who inhabit contexts far from ours may obviously concludethat, as El Salvador is not his or her context, the Christology emergingfrom here is not straightforwardly transferable. But things are not so sim-ple, for the context I have described is not an esoteric exception or anunimportant anecdote to the story of the planet today. Indeed, the truth isquite the opposite. What is esoteric is the world of prosperity, not theworld of El Salvador. As Pedro Casaldaliga recently put it:

There is great wealth on the earth, but there is more injustice. Africa has beencalled “the dungeon of the world,” a continental Shoa. 2.5 million people surviveon less then one dollar a day, and 25,000 people die each day of hunger accordingto the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. Desertificationthreatens the lives of 1,200 million people in about a hundred countries. Immi-grants are denied human fellowship and a floor under their feet. The U.S. isconstructing a wall of over 900 miles to shut out Latin America; and Europe iserecting a barrier against Africa in the south of Spain. All of this, besides beingevil, is part of a plan.12

If one goes to the real foundation of our world—which is a jealouslyguarded secret—one discovers a fundamental isomorphism between theGalilee of Jesus and the many other galilees of our world, a world of thosewho are poor and victims. This world structurally reproduces what oc-curred in the Roman Empire, under which Galilee lived.

Trying to make the language of empire disappear is a coverup. And it isself-interested euphemism to substitute the language of globalization, whichis also deceptive since the term “globe” is close to “sphere,” suggesting a“perfection”13 that is absolutely nonexistent in the terrestrial globe today.And we must not forget the fundamental reality of the imperium magnumlatrocinium (great thieving empire), as Augustine called it, which yesterdaywas Rome and today is life under the aegis of the United States. This larcenyis the ground of the isomorphism of which I speak, exposing both its exis-tence and its cruelty. The Pax Romana was cruel. Today UN expert Jean

19 (1990) 5–10; and Ignacio Ellacurıa, Escritos teologicos, 4 vols. (San Salvador:UCA, 2000–2002) 3:93–100.

12 Pedro Casaldaliga, “Utopıa necesaria como el pan de cada dıa,” a circular letterof January 2006, http://urc.confer.es/urc/publica/recursos/art/utopia_necesaria_como_el_pan_de_cada_dia.pdf (accessed March 10, 2009).

13 Plato, El banquete (Symposium) 189c–192d. The sphere is a geometrical loca-tion in which all the points on the surface are equidistant from the center. Theequidistance functions to subliminally suggest that there exists an equity in theglobalized world, which is a notorious falsehood.


Ziegler says that the world of plenty is an assassin: “‘Every child who diesfrom hunger is assassinated’ because it could have been prevented.”14

This is the dominant isomorphism from the perspective of sin. However,this isomorphism can also be seen sub specie contrarii, i.e., from theperspective of grace: the hope of the Galilee of Jesus; the many movementsin which his hope was expressed; the incipiently liberating praxis; and finallyutopia: the life blood of the poor. It is enough for the moment to mention it.

Global Isomorphism of Martyrs like Jesus

The isomorphism of those who bring salvation is also global. There havebeen movements of life and liberation in many places, and, above all, animmense collection of martyrs on which I will now focus. Limiting myselfto El Salvador and Guatemala, two well-known bishops, Romero and JuanJose Gerardi (plus a third in El Salvador, Joaquın Ramos, who is less wellknown), around 30 priests, and a dozen religious have been assassinated.There is also an interminable list of catechists, delegates of the Word,workers for nongovernmental organizations, and solidarity groups thatbegan their work long before they began to officially exist as such. Theydid their work without administrative apparatus, with only the light of thegospel and a bit of enlightenment contributed by the theology of libera-tion, sometimes with rudiments of Marxism, with limitless generosity, andwith a parresıa for speaking the truth and denouncing the horrors ofoppression and repression. They are the glory of the people and of manychurches, not only in El Salvador and Guatemala but also the entire ThirdWorld—for example, Archbishop Christophe Muzihirwa of Bukavu,Congo, assassinated in 1996 for defending hundreds of thousands of refu-gees in Rwanda; today he is called “the Romero of Africa.” Jesus-likemartyrdom is neither esoteric nor exceptional on the world stage.

Isomorphism of Faith: The Crucified People,Suffering Servant of Yahweh

To the above-named isomorphism I must add another that extendsthroughout the Third World: the analogical isomorphism of the poor andvictims of today with the Suffering Servant who carries the sin of the world,ransoms, and saves us. While this isomorphism is more difficult to specifyfactually because it is perceptible only from a faith-based interpretation ofthe texts, nevertheless, this is how we have seen the Suffering Servant in ElSalvador. Referring to the poor and the vicitms as “the crucified people”and “the pierced divinity,” Archbishop Romero and Ignacio Ellacurıa have

14 “Press Conference by United Nations Special Rapporteur on Right to Food,”October 26, 2007, http://www.un.org/News/briefings/docs/2007/071026_Ziegler.doc.htm (accessed March 16, 2009).


described them as a historical sacrament of the Suffering Servant. At thedescriptive level the Servant Songs of Isaiah and Passion Narrativs of theGospels correspond with what is happening in our world today, and viceversa. The originality of this idea, however, lies not in asserting this corre-spondence but in conceding dignity to the victims of today: there is some-thing sacred about them. The greatest innovation, however, has been toconsider them bearers of salvation. In this, above all, they converge withthe Servant who takes away the sin of the world and, scandalously, bringssalvation.

There are hundreds of millions of poor and oppressed in the world, inwhom appears what I have called “primordial holiness,”15 seen in theiruntiring clinging to life, one to another in repressions, wars, migrations,and refugee centers. Miraculously many times they remain hopeful, offerpardon, and search for reconciliation. Moreover, they have a conveningpower, which generates solidarity, understood as mutual support, giving toone another and receiving one another with the best that one has. Thosewho come from the world of plenty to help the poor repeatedly say, withthanks, that they have received more than they have given. Therefore,looking at both the world of abundance and the world of poverty, I havesaid extra pauperes nulla salus (outside the poor there is no salvation).16

Taking one step further, salvation comes from the poor. They are theservant of Yahweh.17

The Servant and the Crucified One help us understand the poor and thevictims of our context. This does not imply that I think it is possible to turnto reflection without falling into oversimplifications, because the victimsdo not make us almost mechanically and entirely understand the figure ofJesus. His everyday life was not like that of the majorities of the poor andoppressed of our world. But they can certainly help us understand thesignificance of his life and destiny. We accept in faith that Jesus is theServant who brings salvation. But understanding—with all the requiredqualifications—that today’s victims can bring salvation allows one also tounderstand, a bit, what it is about Jesus of Nazareth and his destiny thatbrings salvation.

The conclusion, then, is that El Salvador (the Congo, Haiti,Bangladesh), and not the world of abundance (Washington, Paris, Madrid),offers an isomorphism with the Galilee of Jesus and with Jesus of Galilee.The crucified people bear the sin of the world and redeem it, saving us.

15 See Jon Sobrino, Terremoto, terrorismo, barbarie, y utopıa (San Salvador:UCA, 2003) 129–40.

16 See Jon Sobrino, Fuera de los pobres no hay salvacion: Pequeno ensayoutopico-profetico (Madrid: Trotta, 2007).

17 The poor have also tried to organize themselves and to struggle against anenemy that is a thousand times stronger.


The Irruption of Reality

The isomorphism I have analyzed is finally based in poverty, yesterdayand today. It has existed for centuries, but neither the poverty thatappears in the Gospel text, much less the Salvadoran context, has beentaken into account in Christology. Since the end of the 1970s, however,theology has in fact taken poverty seriously. The conclusion is that inorder to understand the context, one must add the quando (when) to theubi (where). During those years something happened that changed theol-ogy. Reality, which occurs in time, has a quando, so one could say thatthis epoch was a kairos during which there was a discernment of the signsof the times. But I think something more radical occurred: the povertythat had always been there irrupted. It made itself noticed in a way thatcould not be hidden.

It is true that in the lives of believers and in theology, especially in itsbiblical roots, it has always been important to take reality into account. Butreality can simply “be there,” or it can “break in.” The great events of theBible are not simply “there” but rather “break in.” In the Hebrew Scrip-tures the cries of slaves “broke in,” and the God of the fathers “broke in”with his promise to always be with his people and bring them life. In theNew Testament the sufferings of the poor, the sick, and widows “broke in”(even though the language is not as strong as in the Exodus), and Jesus ofNazareth is described in the texts as having “broken in.” He spoke withauthority; no fear kept him from speaking the truth or constricted hisliberty. He did not flee from conflicts, dangers, or death threats. His walk-ing through Galilee was not a stroll, nor was his work reduced to doinggood things; it involved conflict. Neither was he limited to communicatinggeneric or only ethical truths, for his most central theme was prophecy.After going about doing good he died on a cross with “a loud cry” (Mk15:38). His was not an agreeable death like that of Socrates or Seneca. Inlife and in death, Jesus “broke in.” Indeed, the resurrection itself was not aprodigious event but rather an “irruption” of God.

This “irruption of reality” is what shapes theology. It is true that themystery of God manifests itself in everyday life. But when reality “breaksin,” the manifestation of God has a special quality. It shakes things up andforces us to think, to do theology.

The radical character of the irruption of reality cannot be requiredor programmed, and it does not offer reasons for its occurrence, even inintrinsically important circumstances. In my opinion while many things werewell stated at Vatican II and, more recently, at Aparecida, I do not think thatreality got to the point of “breaking in.” It did break in at Medellın, in a waythat the participants—and analogously the texts—did not simply amplify onVatican II, but allowed themselves to be shaped by the reality that was


powerfully “breaking in,” which explains the impact it made.18 Also thetheology of liberation has been built on this irruption. It was not built onand driven by an already constituted tradition or an already conceptualizeddoctrine, though some of the best theology Europe had to offer helped. Thefoundation and the beginning—what got theology going—was the irruptionof the poor and of God in the poor, as was well understood at an early stageby Gustavo Gutierrez.19

We could say something similar about the Christologies that were devel-oping among us during this period. Without doubt the reflections fromabroad by Karl Rahner, Jurgen Moltmann, Jacques Dupont, and JoachimJeremias helped. But to bring about a rereading of the texts, it was essen-tial for a reality to break in that reminded us of oppressed Galilee, and forhuman beings to break in who reminded us of Jesus: his compassion, hishonesty about reality, his prophecy, his courage in the face of conflict, hisfidelity undeterred even by the cross, his prayer, his trust in and availabilityto the Father-God. This is the Jesus who broke in as the Son, the one towhom we must let ourselves be conformed, and the older brother we mustfollow. Both Son and brother became realities in Jesus.

The conclusion is clear. A theology grounded in the irruption of reality has,it is worth repeating, radical roots. Such a theology has problems by defini-tion, since irruption does not occur every day, and it is not easy to maintainthe light and the intensity that produced the original irruption. But whateverthe difficulties in keeping them going, we have to overcome the temptation toignore them. Pedro Casaldaliga, Jean Ziegler, and Ignacio Ramonet tell usthat realities continue to exist today capable of producing an equally or evenmore powerful impact than those that broke in to our context during the1970s. Communication media, governments and political parties, and cultural,political and religious institutions, each in their own way, take charge oftrivializing reality and of concealing it. And they try, above all, to keep itfrom becoming an irruption that generates praxis and theology.

18 In my view the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus, called byPedro Arrupe, caused a fundamental irruption of reality when it defined “thestruggle for faith and the struggle for justice” as the crucial mission of our time(“Jesuits Today,” Decree 2, of Documents of the Thirty-second General Congrega-tion of the Society of Jesus [Washington: Jesuit Conference, 1975] 12). I do notbelieve this irruption emerged as a conclusion of reflection, or even as a result ofdiscernment. It came from outside, sovereignly, powerfully. The reality of injusticeand idolatrous unbelief had irrupted along with the need to return to the essence ofChristianity. From that point on 49 Jesuits have been assassinated in the ThirdWorld for struggling against injustice. I think this is proof that reality had irruptedand that reality was moving toward this crucial struggle.

19 See Jon Sobrino, “La raız de la teo-logıa de la liberacion,” in Teologıas deltercer mundo, Catedra Chaminade 15 (Madrid: PPC-Fundacion Santa Marıa, 2008)163–77.


Specifically with regard to theology, a variety of factors, but especiallythe costs, deter it from maintaining the original power of the incitingirruption: in society these factors include slander, persecution, and death;in the churches they take other forms. This has been evident in El Salva-dor. But it is also clear that if reality is not allowed to break in, the texts ofthe past become mute and do not give of themselves to the present.

The Epistemological Rupture

The irruption of reality in Latin America accompanied an epistemologi-cal rupture in theology. The most novel aspect of this movement was theact of relating theological reason and praxis (historical, ecclesial, and pas-toral), on which theologians as diverse as Gustavo Gutierrez and HugoAsmann agreed. Here in El Salvador, inspired by Xavier Zubiri, Ellacurıaelaborated and amplified a specific understanding of the meaning of intel-lective knowing. It should be applied to every form of intellective knowing,but in fact he more deeply analyzed the intellection of Latin Americantheology as a theology of liberation.20

Ellacurıa’s proposal turned out to be innovative and, in importantaspects, practically contrary to the epistemologies currently in use. For thisreason I speak of an epistemological rupture, the foundation of whichconsists in the idea that intelligence should throw itself into reality. Hisproposal was that human intelligence must “apprehend reality and face upto it,”21 an assertion that he breaks into three dimensions: “grasping whatis at stake in reality” (the noetic dimension) from Zubiri; to this Ellacurıaadded “assuming responsibility for reality and paying the price for it” (theethical dimension), and “taking charge of reality” (the praxis dimension).22

For my part, more from experience and intuition than from theological

20 See Ellacurıa’s programmatic article: “Hacia una fundamentacion filosoficadel metodo teologico latinoamericano,” Estudios centroamericanos 50 (1975) 409–25. For my reflection on the epistemological rupture, see Jon Sobrino, “El conoci-miento teologico en la teologıa europea y latinoamericana,” Estudios centroamer-icanos 50 (1975) 426–45. The context can make the text not only give more of itself,but it can also help intelligence function in a specific manner, in this case, better.

21 Ellacurıa, “Hacia una fundamentacion” 419.22 Ellacurıa’s original text reads: “‘hacerse cargo de la realidad’ (dimension

noetica), de origen zubiriano, a lo cual Ellacurıa anadio el ‘cargar con la realidad’(dimension etica) y el ‘encargarse de la realidad’ (dimension praxica)” (IgnacioEllacurıa, “Hacia una fundamentacıon filosofica del metodo teologico latino-americano,” Estudios centroamericanos 322–323 [1975] 419; also in Liberacion ycautiverio: Debates en torno al metodo de la teologıa en America Latina, las comuni-caciones y los debates del Encuentro Latinoamericano de Teologıa, Mexico City,August 11–15, 1975, ed. E. Ruiz Maldonado and Enrique D. Dussel [Mexico City:Comite Organizador, 1975] 609–35; Ellacurıa, Escritos teologicos [San Salvador:UCA, 2000] 2:208).


reflection, I have added another step: “allowing oneself to be carried byreality” (the dimension of a graced intelligence).

Applying this proposal to theological intelligence, the notion of takingcharge of reality led Ellacurıa to define “theological intelligence” as“the ideological moment of ecclesial praxis,”23 whose end was “the fullestrealization possible in history of the kingdom of God.”24 For my part, Itried to pick up this intuition from Ellacurıa and defined theology asintellectus amoris (iustitiae, misericordiae),25 going a step beyond the intel-lectus fidei of Augustine and the intellectus spei of Moltmann in his Theo-logy of Hope.

Emphasizing the praxis dimension of intelligence was not totally novelin Latin American theology, as I have said. I actually think the dimensionof “assuming responsibility for reality and paying the price for it” wasmore innovative and demanding. Ellacurıa argues that intelligence “hasnot been given to humanity so that we might evade our real obligations,but rather so that we might assume responsibility for reality and carry onour shoulders what things really are, and what they really demand.26 It isnot possible to adequately grasp reality intellectively without the willing-ness to pick up what is burdensome in it—which is not usually takenseriously. The assassinated Ellacurıa—thinker, philosopher, and theolo-gian—can stand as a symbol for an intelligence that assumed responsibilityfor reality. Nor is it by chance that Salvadoran theology has pioneeredpersecution and martyrdom as central themes for theology in a strictsense—not just pastoral or spiritual theology—because it assumed respon-sibility for reality and paid the price for it.

There has also been a rupture in the way of “realizing about reality,”which implies “a being in the reality of things, and not merely a beingbefore the idea of things, or a being in their meaning.”27

Thus understood, an exercise of the intelligence has as its referent theconcrete reality that I have called the “context.” And being adequately inthe context, which is to say, “in the reality of things,” the “texts” aboutJesus were reread and intellectively known praxically, ethically, and grace-fully. Let us see how.

23 Ignacio Ellacurıa, “La teologıa como momento ideologico de la praxis ecle-sial,” Estudios eclesiasticos 53 (1978) 457–76.

24 Ignacio Ellacurıa, “Aporte de la teologıa de la liberacion a las religionesabrahamicas en la superacion del individualismo y del positivismo,” Revista lati-noamericana de teologıa 10 (1987) 3–28, at 9.

25 Jon Sobrino, “Teologıa en un mundo sufriente: La teologıa de la liberacioncomo ‘intellectus amoris,’” Revista latinoamericana de teologıa 15 (1988) 243–66.

26 Ellacurıa, “Hacia una fudamentacion” 419.27 Ibid.


“Taking charge of the reality [of Jesus]” (the praxis dimension) princi-pally signified constructing the kingdom today, which made one betterunderstand, through a certain affinity, what the kingdom proclaimed byJesus meant: a kingdom of life, of justice, mercy, and hope. It also bringsone to understand better all that Jesus did in service of the kingdom—hisproclamation, mercy, prophecy. It also certainly signified recognizing moreclearly what constitutes the antikingdom, since dealing with reality in orderto change it made one experience it as a negative, destructive, powerful,and opposing force. This in turn, sub specie contrarii, helped us Salvadorantheologians understand the kingdom. Further, through taking charge of thekingdom today, this improved understanding of both the kingdom and theantikingdom helped us “realize about” the person of Jesus, since the king-dom of God was not just one reality for him, or even the most importantreality among others; rather it was that reality to which his life had aconstitutive relationship.

“Assuming responsibility for reality and paying the price for it” (theethical dimension) signified accepting what Jesus bore: persecution, slan-der, and torture by economic, military, cultural, religious powers. Andagain, through a certain affinity, that made it easier for us to “realizeabout” the cross of Jesus and its causes, as well as the crucified Jesus andhis victimizers. “Assuming responsibility for reality and paying the pricefor it” helped us understand the crucified Jesus.

“Allowing oneself to be carried by reality” (the dimension of a gracedintelligence) signified gracefully accepting a force and a light, as did thosewho “picked up Jesus.” It is not easy—from the texts—to know what it wasthat historically “picked up Jesus” (another example is his experience ofthe Father). But at least this makes us ask if Jesus also experiencedgrace, and in what that might consist, a question not habitually asked inChristology.

In a different context Rahner wrote some lucid words that help illumi-nate this dialectic of “carrying and being carried”—or in my terms, “pick-ing up and being picked up.” In one of his last writings he says that “beinga Christian is a heavy-light burden, as the Gospel calls it. When we carry it,it carries us. The longer one lives, the heavier and the lighter it becomes.”28

Something similar, I think, has happened in El Salvador. We have had topick up reality, but reality has also picked us up. Archbishop Romero hadto pick up the repression of his people, but he said that “with this people itis not difficult to be a good pastor.” In our context, then, in order to “grasp”Jesus, we must “carry him on our shoulders.” On the other hand, however,“Jesus carries us on his shoulders.”

28 Karl Rahner and Karl-Heinz Weger, Our Christian Faith: Answers for theFuture, trans. Francis McDonagh (New York: Crossroad, 1981) 178–79.


The conclusion is that it is not enough “to be among concepts,” if onewants to grasp intellectively who Jesus is. Instead, it is necessary today“to be among realities,” analogous to how Jesus was among the realitiesof his day. Even a kniende theologie (kneeling theology) is not sufficient, asgood and desirable as it might be. We must go through the epistemologicalrupture, throw ourselves into the real, take charge of it, pick it up, andallow ourselves to be carried by it. If we try to do it any other way, thetexts give less of themselves.

Sometimes the texts have given of themselves the opposite of what wethink was their original message. With no desire to exaggerate, it is para-doxical, on the one hand, that the reality of Jesus of Galilee has been wellinvestigated, and that these investigations have yielded important theoreti-cal results. On the other hand, the reality thus attained has not had aspowerful an effect on the reader and on the collective consciousness as itcould and should have had, given that these concepts have not only “con-tent” but also “weight.”

Without an irruption of reality and a rupture of the way of knowingintellectively, the concept can be correct, but exceedingly trivial. In thatcase the reality behind the concept can remain far outside the grasp oftheology and the collective consciousness, so that only with great difficultycan they unleash a living and creative thought process. But with the irrup-tion of reality and an epistemological rupture, the concept has weight andcan help transform the thinking subject, making demands and pushing thesubject in that direction. It can become part of the collective consciousnessand trigger an intense and creative process.

This is what I believe has occurred in the Third World with the conceptsof liberation and the historical Jesus. They may of course be limited andalways subject to improvement, but they have a special pondus.29 Whenone is truly in the midst of reality, and the intelligence takes charge of thecause of Jesus, picks it up, and one allows oneself to be carried along by it,the concept can become not only precise and scientific but also powerful. Ithas a pondus. And this is usually transmitted, with limitations, of course, tothe sayings of Jesus.

29 The pondus of liberation finds verification in many places in the theology thatbears its name, and also in the naturalness with which its content has continued tobe amplified: liberation from oppression connected with race, ethnicity, gender,religion—including, analogically, even the suffering of mother earth. Christiansand theologians have captured in “liberation” a concept of enormous depth andutility for putting hidden oppressions into words and for fomenting hopes of libera-tion. It has not been a case of marketing a hidden agenda far removed from theconcept of liberation, but rather the pondus of the concept itself. The credit forhaving presented the concept in this way must be given to Gustavo Gutierrez, thepioneer of this work.


A final reflection on the context. I have spoken about its importance formaking the text yield more and better of itself. But we must also rememberwhat the New Testament scholar Xavier Alegre Santamarıa frequentlysays: “a text outside its context can be easily turned into a pretext.” Al-though he is referring to the context in which the biblical texts were written,his warning can also be applied to the context in which those texts are readtoday. Without taking the context of present reality centrally into account,a text—as distinguished as the Gospel of John, for instance—can be re-duced to shaping the personal experience of the believer (a very importantthing), to information about the realities of the past, or as referring tomisty realities. And when this happens, the text becomes a pretext, anexcuse for not having to face up to Jesus today, for not taking charge ofwhat reality demands of us and makes possible in the present, and for notpicking up its demands.

FUNDEMENTAL ELEMENTS OF JESUS OF GALILEE

The Cross of Jesus: A Light That Illuminates Everything

The life of Jesus has many dimensions.30 Now the context can illuminatehis life as a whole, but, depending on the exact nature of the context, it willilluminate some dimensions more than others. I will now briefly analyzethree dimensions of Jesus’ life from the perspective of the Salvadorancontext: the mercy of Jesus, the hope he evokes, and the following hedemands. It is possible to analyze many things in relation to these themes,and I will say a few words about each, but I will start from the specific lightprovided by the cross.

It is not arbitrary to give priority to the cross. I said at the beginning thatthe cross is central to the text of the Gospels. And with regard to theSalvadoran context, I said that we are living under “a reign of the cross,”while in other places one can live under a “reign of the good life.” Thecross has also been central in theology, such as the theologies of Paul,Mark, John, Luther, Bonhoeffer, and Moltmann. Although the cross isnot central in many theologies today, it certainly is in those of the mostlucid theologians. In his treatment of religious pluralism, Jose IgnacioGonzalez Faus insists on “‘the uniqueness of the crucified’ as [what is]inescapably Christian.”31 The cross is the nonnegotiable. Even the resur-rection of Jesus, and the hope of Christians—without which there would be

30 As is demonstrated in the recent book by Jose Antonio Pagola, Jesus: Aprox-imacion historica (Madrid: PPC-Fundacion Santa Marıa, 2007).

31 Jose Ignacio Gonzalez Faus, El rostro humano de Dios: De la revolucion deJesus a la divinidad de Jesus (Santander: Sal Terrae, 2007) 203.


no Christianity—are better understood from the perspective of the cross ofJesus and the love of the martyrs.

Mercy

Mercy in Jesus and the Salvadoran Context

“Mercy”—or “compassion,” the term preferred by Johann Baptist Metz,among other theologians—is central for Jesus. To gain his favor, the poorand the sick had only to say, “Sir, have mercy on me.” For his part, Jesusspeaks and, in his own way, theorizes about it, above all in the parable ofthe Good Samaritan (Lk 10:29–37). In doing this, he describes himself.

In Jesus, mercy is not just a feeling; it is also an action. More exactly, it isa re-action to the deeds of oppressors and victimizers. It does not consist incomplying with a commandment, though Jesus tells the parable of theGood Samaritan to show the meaning of the great commandment, love ofneighbor. It does not belong in the ambit of the religious (though it canand should be present there), since neither God nor the synagogue—thechurches, we would say today—appear in the text essential for demandingcompliance. Nor does it appear that a special predisposition for its exerciseexists in the religious sphere, since the priest and Levite do not react withmercy, but with its opposite. In fact, the one who does respond, the Samar-itan, is not well situated religiously.

For Jesus, therefore, mercy refers to ultimacy: it is not possible to gofurther. The victim lying in the road touches the deepest fiber of the human:splachnon, entrails, heart.Andmercy restores the ultimate to the victim: life.It also restores dignity. The first is evident, but it is important to emphasizethe second. When Jesus acts with mercy, persons in need not only receivehelp but also recover their dignity. He says to those who were healed: “Yourfaith has healed you,” which is to say, “You have helped cure yourself.” Andhe says to the woman caught in sin, “Your faith has saved you.” Humanbeings are no longer divided into two groups: some being merciful benefac-tors, and others being those who receive help. All are human.

The Salvadoran context sheds light on the ultimacy of mercy. Whenpeople asked Archbishop Romero what to do in response to the sufferingof the people, he said, “do not forget that they are human, and that theyare here, dying, fleeing, seeking refuge in the mountains.” He suggestedconcrete ways of helping, but he ended with something more fundamental,which refers to ultimacy: “Do not forget that we are human.” In this waymercy reclaims its proper ultimacy.

As with Jesus, the exercise of mercy restores dignity. A teacher for hispeople, Archbishop Romero used to say, “You are my prophet.” Like alawyer risking everything for his client, he used to say, “With this people itis easy to be a good pastor.” The people recovered their dignity.


Mercy takes different forms depending on context, and this is importantto take into account. The mercy expressed by Fr. Maximilian Kolbe whotook the place of another man condemned to death in a concentrationcamp, for example, was different from that of Mother Teresa, who woulddo anything for the most abandoned. Mercy has taken diverse forms in ElSalvador: assisting the fleeing, helping popular organizations, defendinghuman rights, even burying the dead, which Archbishop Romero used tomention. Also, working for negotiations to bring a cruel war to an end, asEllacurıa did, and during which he lost his life, was also an outstandingexample of mercy.

Liberation has been the horizon of mercy in the Salvadoran context, andits fundamental instrument has been justice. Mercy and justice can beconceptually distinguished, but really and existentially they are interrelat-ed. Mercy-justice is essentially a dialectic, and therefore conflictual: itinvolves defending some against others who victimize them. It draws oneinto the struggle against the oppresser.

The Light of the Cross

The cross of Jesus specifies the nature of his mercy. He entered intoconflict by being dialectically merciful, by struggling against injustice. Thecross also helps us see that Jesus was consistently merciful, since heremained in that struggle to its end on the cross.

The cross of Jesus also sheds light on Salvadoran reality. As ArchbishopRomero memorably stated on the occasion of the assassination of one ofthe six priests who preceded him, “The one who gets in the way getskilled.” The archbishop consistently got in the way by exposing and de-nouncing the oppressors, but not to take advantage for himself, or todefend the Church, or even to advance a cause in itself (liberty, justice,democracy). His interference stemmed from the desire “to defend the poorwho are defenseless, threatened, oppressed, tortured, disappeared, andassassinated.” The cross is, then, the clear consequence of a specific mercy:the mercy that arises from defending victims against their victimizers. It isfrom the perspective of this mercy, which does not merely assist butdefends victims, that the new and massive phenomenon of martyrs mustbe understood.32

“Martyrdom” is a historical concept, and we could argue about its ana-logatum princeps and what standard is most relevant today. But in the

32 It is well known, but it is good to recall (to illustrate the “added” significancethat martyrdom grants to mercy), that Archbishop Romero and Mother Teresawere distinguished in mercy—both were nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in1979. Archbishop Romero died a martyr. Mother Teresa did not. The process ofbeatification of Archbishop Romero is stalled because his mercy was conflictive,and his memory continues to be so. Mother Teresa has already been beatified.


Salvadoran context a martyr is one who gives his or her life to defend thepoor, which is to say, for the cause of justice—and by this means testifiesthat Jesus is the Christ. The martyrs, then, are those who are distinguishedin mercy, who love and defend victims, who transform that love into astruggle for justice, and who for that reason are assassinated. They are theconsistently merciful. They resemble Jesus in life, and they die like Jesus.I call them martyrs like Jesus.

This mercy-justice, illuminated by the fact that it ends in a cross, shedseven more light than do the beautiful words of the psalms on what it meansto say that God is a God of mercy. In speaking of the option for the poor,Puebla adds two essential clarifications in making this solemn theologalaffirmation. One is that God’s option for the poor is gratuitous: “whateverthe moral situation in which it is found.” The other is that the optiondefends the poor against their oppressors: “God comes to their defenseand loves them.”33 The love of God is an active mercy, but it is also a riskymercy, since it defends the poor against their victimizers. That risk—mys-terious, scandalous—which God himself assumes, is what seems to behistoricized in the cross of his Son.

Hope

Hope in the Gospel and Hope in the Salvadoran Context

Hope is central in the text of the Gospels. Jesus says programmatically:“The kingdom of God is at hand.” Leonardo Boff comments: “Jesusarticulates a radical fact about human existence, about its principle ofhope and its utopian dimension. He promises that utopia will no longerbe an object of anxious expectation (Lk 3:4), but rather a topıa, an objectof hope for the entire people (Lk 2:10).”34 In the time of Jesus thekingdom of God gave historical expression to the hope of a people ingreat material difficulties and immersed in a political and cultural identitycrisis. For this reason Jesus provoked an exuberant response among thecommon people.

One can also inquire about Jesus’ own hope. At the last supper Jesusexpresses the hope of returning to “drink wine in the kingdom.” However,I think his various words about the poor and the humble should be inter-preted as experiences not only of trust and joy but also of hope—as in hisamazement at the generosity of the widow in the Temple and the audacity

33 Bishops of Latin America, Evangelization in Latin America’s Present andFuture, no. 1142 (Puebla, Mexico, February 1979), in Puebla and Beyond: Docu-mentation and Commentary, ed. John Eagleson and Philip Scharper, trans. JohnDrury (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis) 264–67.

34 Leonardo Boff, “Salvacion en Jesucristo y proceso de liberacion,” Concilium96 (1974) 375–88, at 378.


of the woman with the hemorrhage. His joy over the fact that the littleones understand, whereas the great and the wise do not, must have givenhim hope. And his hope is certainly present in his trust in his Abba.

Experiences like these are also real in El Salvador, and I believe thatsuch contexts have opened the eyes of many to understand the hope of thepoor and of Jesus himself. When looked at from the perspective of histori-cal liberation with its difficulties, failures, and disappointments, the goodnews that the kingdom of God “is coming” has regained its value.

The Light of the Cross

The Christian paradox also breaks in here. Hope, as found in El Salvadorand in the New Testament, is intimately related to the cross in two ways.First, the resurrection of Jesus is a symbol of hope qualified by virtue of thecross. Peter formulates it exactly in five discourses in Acts: “You killed him,but God raised him from the dead” (Acts 3:15). God’s resurrecting action isnot, then, simply omnipotence before a cadaver, which would generate anexpectation of “more life”; rather it is justice before an innocent victim, andso it generates a specific hope: that, as Horkheimer so often put it, theexecutioner should not triumph over the victim. Especially in this sense, theresurrection is a symbol of hope in El Salvador.

But there is something even more audacious here; the cross itself hasbeen a source of hope. This conclusion comes not from being oblivious orinsensitive. In Scripture the suffering servant and Christ on the cross createhope, just as do the innumerable Salvadoran martyrs. The facts are clear,as difficult as it is in other places to comprehend and accept. The key isknowing and explaining why. In Moltmann’s words, “Not every life is anoccasion for hope, but the life of Jesus, who took up the cross for love,certainly is.”35 In our context this is true. Beyond calculations, optimism,and expectations, where there is love, there hope arises. Love is whatmoves one to believe and to hope, mysteriously, that good has moresubstance and more power than evil. In the presence of love it is possibleto go on living. The cross that is a cross of love also produces hope.

Earlier we remembered the martyrs in the context of mercy; they are theconsistently merciful. Now we remember them in the context of hope; theyhave given their lives for love, and so they are producers of hope. This factcannot be denied. It happened with Archbishop Romero and withthousands of martyrs. They become graces for us, and we give themthanks. Their anniversaries with tears are moments of joy and of remem-bering a great love. It supports hope.

35 Jurgen Moltmann,Umkehr zur Zunkunft (Hamburg: Siebenstern-Taschenbuch,1970) 76.


Following Jesus and Easter

In the Gospel Jesus calls us to follow, to imitate the praxis and theevangelizing of his life. One must “go about doing good” as he did. Hedemands the same of his disciples. In regard to El Salvador, there is nolack of talk about the cloud of witnesses in recent Salvadoran history,many of them martyrs; they have gone about doing good.

And Jesus adds with clairvoyance that in history doing good impliesmeddling in conflict and picking up what is burdensome: “if any want tobecome my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross andfollow me” (Mk 8:34; Mt 16:24; Lk 9:23). We just saw this in the martyrs.However, responding to the call to follow is the Jesus-like way of fulfillingwhat God asks in Micah 6:8: “to do justice, and to love kindness, and towalk humbly with your God.” In both cases the text speaks of walking.

Following bring us face to face with the way Jesus walked, and the crossgrants it absolute ultimacy. This is how it appears in the text of the Gospeland in the Salvadoran context. What I want to emphasize in bringing thesereflections on Jesus and Galilee to a close is that following him conformsus to Jesus; it conforms us, some more and some less, to his reality. Andthis has decisive consequences: in following, we can, by affinity, take a stepof faith—and yet following is logically also the place where one couldabandon the path of faith.

It is in following that questions about faith can emerge most acutely.Like Jesus, we can be faced with ultimate questions: whether everythingmakes sense or is absurd, whether hope makes more sense than hopeless-ness, resignation than carpe diem. The same holds true of the question oftheodicy: if the Son of God, and God in him, has passed through thisworld, why does the world continue doing so much evil rather thangood? Why does the world not change? Why does God not change it?Are not Mark and Matthew correct in having Jesus die, representing allof us, with the heartrending cry: “My God, my God, why have youforsaken me?” (Mk 15:34; Mt 27:46). To this unanswerable question onecan only reply, babbling, that God is an unfathomable mystery, silent andinactive in the face of evil. But one must pass through the questions. Andthe passing is more insightful, I think, in following rather than in justcontemplating.

But following also enables meaning and joy to appear. Being like Jesusgives meaning to life itself, and one sees, or glimpses, that “the gentlenessof God has appeared among us.” This kindness, with many ups and downs,continues driving history forward toward the good and the new. By follow-ing Jesus, our older brother and the first-born Son, we can keep walkinguntil “God becomes all in all” (1 Cor 15:28). For many people followinghas meant rediscovering a good news.


Passing through history in this way is an anticipation of Easter: we gothrough death and pass into life. The dialectic is resolved only at the end.We are saved in the present in spe (in hope). But the reality of the presentlooks like a modest sacrament of the final paschal event.

Perhaps what is most extraordinary about the context of El Salvador andsimilar locations is that there are believers who follow Jesus and whocontinue walking humbly with God. They are people of faith and commit-ment. And many others are carried in their own faith by the faith of thesemartyrs.

For me there is no doubt that these martyrs are the most crucial realityof our context for understanding the reality and the texts about Jesus ofGalilee. Simply stated, without them it would be difficult to understandtexts like the Gospel of Jesus, much less with any depth. For that reason,personally, the lack of interest in the martyrs of not a few theologies makesme uneasy.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion I draw attention to three more or less obvious considera-tions. The first is that this article could have analyzed many other aspectsabout Jesus of Galilee. In the two volumes mentioned earlier, I treatedsome aspects that are absolutely central, such as the relation of Jesus withthe Father and Jesus’ final reality—his “metaphysical” reality. Otheraspects are au courant and need to be addressed: Jesus and the religions,women and their position in creation and in the Church, an understandingof salvation that integrates the achievements of reason into the task ofliberation, the real posture of Jesus toward service and power, freedomand subjugation. Nonetheless, I hope what I have said is enough to demon-strate the importance of the Salvadoran context and the martyrs for chris-tological reflection.

The second consideration is whether and how to historicize today whatwe learned in an epoch-shaping context of irruption and martyrdoms thatis difficult to repeat, though not totally unique. I hope my words help insome way to advance understanding of the “original irruption,” and todiscern new irruptions that are, finally, the truest signs of the times. And Ihope my thought helps support the martyrs. If this task seems almostimpossible for theology to fulfill, consider whether this, and no other, isthe fundamental job of a Christian theology: to keep alive the “irruption ofthe martyr Jesus.”

The third consideration is the most obvious. I have given my personalopinion about Jesus and some aspects of who he was and is as a person.And I have focused here more than in other writings on what is usuallycalled method. In my other texts I have not followed a method in an a


priori way, both because I do feel qualified to do so and because, frankly, Ido not have much confidence in such an approach. In this article I havesimply rethought the path I have tread in El Salvador. Undoubtedly Ella-curıa would have said it differently, as would other theologians, male andfemale, from Latin America and the whole Third World. But perhapsthere is something common to us all: taking seriously the context of theworld of poverty, passing through an epistemological rupture, and thinkingplaced in the service of liberation. And from the perspective of El Salva-dor, to the list I would add: taking the martyrs seriously.
